


Vampires Don't (Always) Bite

by Applefall



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Angst, M/M, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-24
Updated: 2015-06-24
Packaged: 2018-04-06 00:29:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4200987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Applefall/pseuds/Applefall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their relationship is fucked up now and Pete, well... Pete needs to leave before Patrick wakes up. He needs to go some place far, far away.</p><p>Somewhere he won't hurt Patrick</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vampires Don't (Always) Bite

**Author's Note:**

> this has been a draft for like a month or two do I decided to finally post it lmao.

"Pete. Please. You have to talk to me." Comes a smooth as honey voice, desperation creeping into the tone. "Please."

Pete sinks against the door, feeling the heat of Patrick's hand on the door. He places his own hand over the same spot. Their hands are separated by wood, but they touch nonetheless.

He's miserable, he wants to die. He can't see Patrick. Not now, not ever. "Patrick, I can't. I can't hold myself back." Pete pleads with him, begging him to stop. He can't stand Patrick being upset. He's always bent to Patrick's tears, but he can't now. He has to stay strong in order to protect him.

"I don't care, Pete. Please, please let me see you." Patrick murmurs from the other side of the wall. In a normal situation, Pete probably wouldn't be able to hear him. But his hearing and sight have been enhanced, thanks to Beckett. Pete buries his face in his hands, pulling at his hair. He's starving, so so hungry, and he can smell Patrick's blood.

Pete scratches at his face and lowers his hands. He's handcuffed himself to be safe. He won't take any risks when it comes to Patrick, his soulmate. He's salivating now though as Patrick's blood thrums faster with need. Pete bangs his head against the door and growls, hoping to scare him away. "Pete, I love you. Nothing will change that." Patrick says softly.

Pete stands, not without difficulty. He pushes his forehead against the door and sniffs. "Patrick. Patrick, Patrick. You have to go. Please, you can't come in." Pete begs as he sees the doorknob turn. Where did Patrick get the fucking key?

Patrick opens and steps into the door, eyes watery. He looks so beautiful, chubby and pale, wheat colored hair messy underneath his hat. Pete scrambles away from him when he reaches out, afraid of what he'll do. He can nearly see the blood flowing under his skin and can smell the sweet vanilla of it. 

"Pete, can't I just touch you?" Patrick pleads, approaching him. Pete shakes, he can't take it. He smells too good and he's so so hungry. He feels the monster taking over and he bends over in an attempt to stop it before straightening, aware of every noise, including Patrick's heart beat.

Patrick must notice something's wrong because he steps back, suddenly afraid. The fear scent only serves to make him smell even more delicious. Pete licks his lips and steps forward, breaking the cuffs with strength he didn't know he had. He throws the pieces onto the floor and stalks forward, eyes trained on Patrick as he moves slowly, silently.

"Pete?" Patrick asks in a small voice. The timid tone shakes Pete of his stupor and he blinks, confused. Patrick relaxes, but Pete slips back in as Patrick smiles in relief. "Pete!" Patrick cries out when Pete pounces, pushing him against the wall. There's a sickening thud as his head hits the wall, but Pete hardly notices it.

"Pete, please, don't!" Patrick cries, struggling to free himself. But Pete only growls, grabbing his wrists and holding them above his head. He uses his other hand to trail fingers down Patrick's face, and to his neck.

Pete ghosts his lips over Patrick's pale, pale neck. This makes Patrick squirm harder, little cries emitting from him. He allows his teeth to slip out and he grazes his neck with them, enjoying the heady scent of fear and vanilla.

"You smell so good." Pete growls, voice rough and low. Patrick whimpers as Pete licks his neck, drawing a tiny sip from Patrick. The blood is delicious, making Pete warm as the blood goes down his throat.

"Pete, oh god, Pete, please don't, Pete, Pete!" Patrick wails, bucking up and tossing his head back and forth. He wails again, fear scent amplifying twenty times. It nearly makes Pete dizzy with how amazing he smells.

Pete traces his jugular with his tongue before sinking his teeth in. Patrick screams, back arching in pain. He struggles against Pete's hands and fails to get away as Pete presses down harder. Pete continues tearing into his skin and reaches the jugular, sucking up blood in sloppy slurps. 

Patrick screams throughout his feed. Pete knows it hurts. He knows because he hadn't bothered to inject the venom that would make it feel good for Patrick, because he had a feeling in his gut that it wouldn't taste as good if he did. He knows deep down it hurts like hell and he relishes it, even though he wishes his prey would stop moving so much. 

When he finishes he pulls back, sucking on the two tiny holes to close them. He pulls back and wipes his mouth, smearing blood onto Patrick's skin. He looks beautiful, the scarlet stark against the white. 

Patrick stopped moving a minute before he finished. Instead, he's limp, pleads still spilling from his lips. "Pete, Pete, Pete." Patrick cries softly, head lolling as he slumps forward into Pete's arms.

His cries bring him back. Pete flinches and stares at the warm, crying body in his arms, shaking violently. "Oh my god," he starts, voice normal and panicky. "Patrick, no, no, no, this is my fault, Patrick, oh no," Pete splutters, dragging Patrick to the bed. Patrick's trembling, eyes closed. 

"Patrick, are you okay, Patrick, please be okay." Pete gasps, tears flowing. He flops down next to Patrick, pulling on his hair when Patrick flinches. "Patrick, please." When Patrick doesn't respond, he digs his nails into his skin and bites hard on his lip, even though he can't feel either of those things. 

Patrick stops shaking after a while and turns to him, tears on his cheeks. "Pete, you hurt me." Patrick whispers, like he can't believe it. "I-I-I, this is my fault." Patrick whimpers. There's blood smeared across his neck and Pete can't believe he did this to him, to his love.

"No, it's my fault. I couldn't control myself and I just-" Pete chokes out, gathering Patrick close to him. Now that he's full and sated, he can control himself. "You need to leave Patrick, before I hurt you more. I love you, God, so much Patrick, but you gotta go." Pete begs, on the verge of babbling.

Patrick shakes his head and buries his head in his chest. "You'll learn." Patrick whispers, clutching his shirt. "Just stay with me." He's still shaking and crying, but he burrows closer to him and clings, refusing to let go.

Pete wants to scream in frustration. "What if I don't learn? And I fucking kill you!?" Pete asks, voice breaking. Patrick sniffs and shakes his head, stubborn as ever. God, he loves him more than anything in this terrible world, but he hates that he can be so damn stubborn some times.

"You won't." Patrick reassures him, like Pete's the victim here, the one who just had his blood taken from him. "I know you won't." Patrick's cheeks are tear stained and he's trembling from the blood loss, but he has a fire in his eyes and Pete knows it's no use to fight him anymore. 

So, instead of trying to push him away, he sniffles and hugs him tight, willing himself to not sink his teeth into his boyfriend again. Soon enough they fall from their sitting position to laying down. Patrick eventually stops trembling and Pete eventually falls asleep to the fluttering of Patrick's heart. 

Their relationship is fucked up now and Pete, well... Pete needs to leave before Patrick wakes up. He needs to go some place far, far away.

Somewhere he won't hurt Patrick.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are super appreciated! :)


End file.
